I just came back from a trip to Japan. I was a virgin before I flew in to Haneda airport on the 15th May. Not a virgin to Japanese cuisine or girls exactly. Or Nippon girl's cuisine. But to the actual country. And yes, do notice that I spelled country with the 'o'. This may be one of the few times.So Japan... I can't but feel that there is so much that the world could benefit from Japan. Yeah OK so there is that whole debacle with the tsunami and radiation and blah blah. But that aside, this is a country that I have come to deeply appreciate ... and I wish to shout out my love from the very depth of my bowels.
And so it only seems fitting to start with the TOTO toilets. Oh my, TOTO, we're so not in homeland bogville anymore (by the way I reside in Vietnam but actual home country is Oz). Japanese toilets are the world's best. No bum guns here my friend. Oh no. This is some seriously anal bathroom pampering. Start with the warm seat. Don't forget it's an automatically deodorized/sterilized seat too - so no contracting bathroom nasties. Then add the music option to mask the sound of your expulsion. And a series of buttons aimed at squirting warm water into any one (or all) of your holes. Holy water! Blast to the arse! Words do not do justice.All I know is the world would be a better place if every person had access to a Japanese toilet. I love you TOTO.
Moving my mind from the toilet - those unfamiliar with me in person should note now that toilet humour will feature prominently in my blog - let's get to the hot baths. I didn't make it to an onsen until the day before I left. This was the day that friends Kana and Daichan took the day off work and drove me to Mt Fuji (yes, they are fabulous friends, who have definitely entered the bestest-ever-friends-hall-of-Ame). Mt Fuji is an unbelievably good looking mountain I have to say. I was expecting it to be pretty, but it was more than that - it was gorgeous. The day before we arrived it snowed, so this SEA-based Australian was not only enamored by the glory of its size and shape (and yes, that is a boob reference - no phallic symbols allowed in my blog), but delighted by the magical wintery wonderland that greeted us as we mounted the big mount. I hadn't seen snow like that since maybe back in 1998 in Flagstaff USA.
So we ascended to the highest parking lot point. Enjoyed a hot bowl of udon (udon made in Fuji-san area - very wide and delicious) and played in the snow outside a shrine facing the mountain. Breathtaking views. Lots of alcoholic souvenirs were bought... and then as the day was fading, enjoyed the climax ... onsen facing Mt Fuji as the sun set. Let me start by informing you that I had never been in an onsen before. And I desperately wanted to but was so not sure about my muffta being out and about in the open. I know that the Japanese consider bathing as something simple and natural and completely disconnected from the sexual, but hey, it's kind of weird to let it all hang out. Or down (as the girls do mostly in my case). Give them another 5 years without a reduction and I'll be slinging them over my shoulders like those braless native Papua New Guinean females do when they run. But yes, I digress.
We entered the facility. Shoes off. Zen-like. Lots of older people. Reassuring to a degree methinks - my body can't be that bad compared with these withering elderly specimens. But then we get to the actual changing room. You're meant to just strip down, put your clothes in the locker and walk in the nude from the changing room into the baths. I can't with Kana there. Too weird. So I go outside, she onsens, I drink beer. Daichan comes back from the men's bath, laughs at my failed attempt to get my rocks off and have a soak, so I decide stubbornly that I will go in when Kana returns. She comes back, I enter with suppressed trepidation. No looking. Focused. Clothes off. Use tiny towel to cover (rather pathetically) a tiny portion of the girls combined and most of my map of Tasmania. I get to the shower cubicle, soap up, wash hair, rinse ... and then slowly amble over to the first inside bath. I look furtively around but nobody seems to give a rat's bum that there is an awkwardly white, pudgy and possibly red-faced Caucasian inside. I give way to the water. Oh. Oh my god. I emit some sort of groan. It is heaven. And it's not sexual. After about 5 minutes I am so relaxed that I don't even worry about the transition to the outside spring which overlooks the mountain in all its sunset pink-hued glory. The outside pools are ringed by volcanic rocks and the water is percolating up naturally from underground. It is about 44 degrees. I soak and fall into some kind of tantric spell of warm relaxation. Ah onsen. I will never forget you.
Next entry ... food glorious food ... and all things fishy in Tokyo ...
